Forget-Them-Not
by Gracie
Summary: When Janeway is injured, she doesn't remember Voyager . . . or anyone on board. (Now complete!)
1. Default Chapter

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Author's Note: Welcome to my very first "ST: Voyager" fanfic. Why have I waited so long to post it? I don't know, really. But Part One is now here, so please review! I'm not sure where the inspiration for this came from. It was just something I've always wanted to see on the show, and I decided that if TPTB were never going to write it, I might as well write it myself. Thanks in advance for the feedback! J 

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Forget-Them-Not

By Gracie Kay

Part One

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"Captain. Captain, can you hear me?"

The words floated above her, but she couldn't answer. Captain? Who was he talking to? But she couldn't ask. Darkness pressed around her, and her eyelids were too heavy to open. She tried to wake up, knowing somehow that she was unconscious. But now the voice was fading, and silence surged back to reclaim her. She couldn't wake up. 

"What's wrong with her?" Chakotay frowned as the Doctor hesitated. With the combined knowledge of 47 doctors, the Emergency Medical Hologram rarely hesitated over anything. 

"I'm not sure I can answer that, Commander. She should be awake and alert by now, yet all my attempts to waken her have been in vain. She is in a coma that not even my expertise can revive her from."

"All this from a holodeck injury?"

"It's unusual, but not unheard of. The most innocent bumps on the head have been known to cause . . ." His holographic face puckered in the facsimile of a frown. 

"To cause what?" 

"Irreparable damage." 

"You're saying she has brain damage?"

"I don't know, Commander. I won't know until I can awaken her. She was hit on the back of the head, and my scans show no damage to the frontal lobes of her cerebral cortex."

Chakotay looked at him blankly. "Meaning?"

"Meaning, long-term consciousness should not be affected by this injury. But for some reason, it is."

His words were disturbing, and as he retreated to studying a computer screen, Chakotay reached down to take the captain's still hand. "Come on, Kathryn," he whispered. "Please."

Chakotay knew before he exited sickbay that Tom Paris would be waiting for him. He was right, and the younger man fell into step with him as he headed for the bridge. 

"Well? Is she awake yet?"

"Not yet." Chakotay knew he was being brief, but at the moment, he was too concerned to worry about courtesy. 

"What did Doc have to say?"

"Nothing reassuring. He doesn't know . . ." He paused in the corridor, and Paris stopped as well. "He doesn't know what's wrong with her, Tom. He can't figure out why she's not waking up."

Tom looked away, and Chakotay saw the pain in his eyes. "It's all my fault. I designed that holodeck program. I never should have been experimenting with the safety protocols." 

"You can't blame yourself for this."

"Yes, I can. And I'm deleting that program the first chance I get." 

The first thing she heard was someone humming. The sound caught her off-guard, and her eyes opened quickly, then roamed around the room, and she recognized a sickbay . . . but not the sickbay on _her_ ship. Something was very wrong here. She reached into her mind to remember . . . and came up empty-handed. 

Suddenly, a voice invaded her thoughts. 

"Captain!" She turned her head to see a man, dressed in a Starfleet uniform with blue shoulders. What was he doing here--or maybe the better question would be, what was _she_ doing here?

"I'm so glad you're back. We've been quite worried about you."

With some effort, her voice and lips formed words. She was still feeling a little shaky, even if she was awake. "What . . . who are you? Where am I?"

Several emotions flitted over the man's face, but the prominent one was alarm. "Can you tell me your name?"

"Kathryn Janeway."

"Okay, good. Now, what's the last thing you remember?"

"You haven't answered my question," she pointed out, unsure if she should trust the man or not, even if he was in uniform. "Where am I?"

"Why, you're on your ship, of course. Captain, don't you know who I am?"

_Captain?_ As she lay on the bio-bed, Janeway felt a shudder of fear pass through her. Either this man was terribly mixed up, or she was. "I--I'm sorry, I don't believe I've met you. And why are you calling me 'Captain'?" 

Without another word to her, he hit his comm badge. "Sickbay to bridge." 

A husky, masculine voice answered over the comm frequency. "Bridge here. What is it, Doctor?"

"The captain's awake, Commander. But I think you'd better get down here right away." 

"On my way, Chakotay out."

The man turned back to her, and for the first time she noticed a strange gadget on his shoulder. What was he?

"Well, Captain, since you don't seem to remember me, perhaps you'll recognize Commander Chakotay. At any rate, I am the Emergency Medical Hologram. You may call me 'Doctor.'"

She had never felt so confused in her life, but she nodded. "Of course." 

"I believe it's safe for you to sit up, if you like. We only have to figure out now exactly what you know and what you've forgotten. I'm sure it's only a short-term memory loss, Captain; don't worry."

She was _not_ a captain, and being referred to by that title was bothering her. But she didn't see what could be done about it at the moment; why try to reason with a computer program? Thus decided, she sat up slowly and said nothing. 

Then the sickbay doors slid away, and a man entered the room. He was tall, darkly handsome, and frowning; but the clouds broke from his face when he saw her perched on the edge of the bed. "Captain! It's good to see you--" He broke off and stared at her, much the way she must be staring at him. 

She was certain she had never seen this man before.

"We may have a problem, Commander," came the all-too-brisk voice of that computer program. "The captain doesn't remember me, and now it looks as though she doesn't know you, either." 

"Captain?" 

She was trembling now. She didn't know this man and she didn't "know" this hologram, while they both acted as though they knew her. 

The tall man was gazing down at her, and she quickly grabbed onto her calm, composure, and confidence before they all melted to the deck of the ship. 

"I . . . there's been a mistake somehow. I'm not who you think I am, Commander. I'm not a captain."

"Then who are you?" 

"I'm _Commander_ Kathryn Janeway. I'm first officer of the U.S.S. _Billings_." 

"What's the last thing you remember about serving aboard the _Billings_?" It was the Doctor speaking again. 

She paused. It was difficult to remember recent details, but . . . "I was in engineering. I don't know why, but . . . I think a console exploded and . . . that's all I remember." They were staring at her like she was crazy, and now she wondered if maybe she was. 

Then the comm system interrupted. "Tuvok to sickbay."

Her heart leaped in her chest at the blessedly familiar voice, the familiar name in this place where nothing was making sense. "Tuvok." She had said his name before she had thought about it.

The man called Chakotay gave her a searching look. "Do you remember him?"

"Of course I do. Let me talk to him." Tuvok would be able to straighten all this out. 

"The Doctor here," the hologram piped up, almost cheerfully. "Please report to sickbay, Mr. Tuvok. Our patient is asking for you. In fact, it looks as though _you_'re the only one she remembers."

"On my way." 

And then he was there, and Janeway had never been so glad to see him. He approached her with a pensive expression, then spoke to her. "Captain, do you know me?"

Oh, no. Not him, too. "Tuvok, what's happened to me? I'm not a captain--" Then she saw the three little silver pips on his collar. He wasn't an ensign anymore. 

An alternate reality. Maybe that's what this was. But how had she been transported here? "I--I don't understand," she faltered, her confidence fading fast. 

"You have been injured, Captain." Tuvok's voice was as soothing as ever, even if what he was saying didn't make much sense. "It appears that you have lost quite a few of your memories of the last several years. We will have to determine exactly how many years you have forgotten." 

She looked at him and saw concern in his eyes, although he tried as usual to remain impassive. "All right," she sighed, resolved to discover what she didn't remember. "So I'm a captain . . . and this is my ship and my crew. But--but where are we, and why is a hologram the only medical staff in sickbay?" 

Tuvok exchanged a glance with Chakotay, and they both hesitated. "The explanation is complicated, Captain," Tuvok said at last, and if ever a Vulcan's tone was ominous, his was at that moment. Janeway felt a moment of dread. Had some disaster taken place? 

(to be continued … Feedback greatly appreciated! J )


	2. Forget-Them-Not, Part 2 of 4

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Forget-Them-Not

By Gracie Kay

Part Two of Four

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It was over two cups of Vulcan spice tea later in the day, in her quarters --Captain's quarters--that Kathryn Janeway was given a history lesson on her own past--seven years of it, in fact. She knew no one on this ship but Tuvok, because he was the only one she had known at the time of an injury on the _Billings_, in engineering, seven years before. Naturally, she requested that this history lesson be just between her and the Vulcan, who was now a lieutenant commander and her chief of security. 

"It's a beautiful name," she murmured when he told her. "_Voyager_." Somehow knowing the name of this ship, her ship, helped her form a bond with it. 

Tuvok briefed her on the specs of the ship, but it was events that she really needed to understand. And as she learned, she became more and more uneasy. At last, after long hours and many questions, he had told her everything of consequence that had taken place in the last seven years of her life. 

She was silent for several long minutes, during which Tuvok patiently sipped his tea and allowed her to absorb it all. But there was so much to absorb . . .

At last, she spoke. "Captain Janeway." Hearing it in her own voice somehow brought it to reality, but still-- She smiled softly at him, although he did not smile back. She hadn't expected him to. "Has a strange sound, doesn't it?"

"You have carried the title well, Captain," he said simply. 

"But . . . have I? I mean, look at the past five years, Tuvok. I violated the Prime Directive and stranded this crew in the Delta Quadrant with the same order . . . I made a sentenced felon my conn officer and a Maquis commander my first officer . . . I have an ex-drone on my ship with her own security clearance code . . ." It was really unbelievable, and unsettling. "Are you sure we're talking about _me_?"

He gave her the closest thing to a smile that she had ever seen from him. "We are, Captain." 

She sighed. "I thought that maybe something you told me would--I don't know, would bring it all back to my mind. Help me remember it. Hearing it from you and remembering it myself aren't quite the same, you know."

"No, Captain, they are not."

At least he hadn't changed. "I can't keep commanding this ship as though nothing has happened. I . . . I just don't feel ready to take the captain's chair, Tuvok. I have to appoint someone to take command of this ship until I regain my memories. Or at least until I know them as though they were my own." 

"A logical course of action, Captain."

She looked into his dark eyes. "You are the only one I know on this entire ship. The 'logical course of action' would be to appoint you to command."

He looked away. "Perhaps. However, Commander Chakotay is next in the chain of command." 

"You are the chief of security. If we want to speak in terms of protocol alone . . . I violated protocol by appointing Chakotay first officer at all. The post should have gone to you, Tuvok."

"I have been honored to serve as your security chief. I have not desired command of this vessel."

_You can't lie to me; you're a Vulcan. _And he was a friend. He would tell her only the unedited truth. "Are you saying you still don't desire it? Are you saying that you would prefer me to give command of the ship to this Chakotay?"

"I am advising you to follow the chain of command you yourself set up after the destruction of the Caretaker's array. You did not appoint Commander Chakotay to the post of first officer blindly. He has shown himself a capable commander on more than one occasion, Captain. He will not disappoint you."

She felt another sigh coming but bit it back. For a long moment, neither of them spoke. "All right. I'll follow your counsel. I have never known it to lead me astray before."

He nodded. "Another wise choice, Captain." 

What was this? Was Tuvok actually indulging in humor? She smiled.

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Chakotay paused before pressing the chime on the door. He usually conferred with the captain in her ready room, not her quarters. But as far as he knew, she hadn't even been to her ready room since the accident. 

The impulse to assign blame was a strong one. If Tom hadn't asked the captain to join him on the holodeck, this would have never happened. But if that argument held water, then so did the one that would say it was Janeway's fault for accepting the invitation. 

No. It was an accident. It was no one's fault. But he hoped with everything inside him that this memory lapse would be short-lived. He needed--they _all_ needed--her back to the way she had been: calm, in control, decisive, wearing her authority without effort. He just wanted her back.

Quickly he hit the door chime, and was rewarded with her voice after a momentary pause. "Come in." 

The door slid aside, and he stepped into the room. She was standing as though she had just risen to her feet, and she looked him up and down and nodded slowly. "Commander Chakotay." 

The formality hurt, and hurt deep. But Chakotay reminded himself that she didn't know him, and he couldn't expect anything different. Still, he wondered what he should do about her stiffness, if he should do anything. Not knowing how to act around her was something new and painful, and after a moment's hesitation, he opted to follow her lead. If formality, arm's length interaction, made her feel more secure, he would oblige.

"Captain Janeway." The response was stiff, he knew, but he hadn't addressed her that way in years. Hopefully she could appreciate that this was awkward for him as well as for her. 

"I've been . . . giving this predicament some thought, Commander. And I've come to a decision. I find I have little choice but to . . . to place you in command of this vessel. At least for the time being."

He didn't know what to say. It was difficult for her, he could tell. "Well, I . . . I appreciate your trust in me, Captain."

"Not in you, Commander. In myself."

He frowned, puzzled, hoping she would offer the explanation and not make him ask. 

She didn't disappoint him. "In myself, that I made the right decision when I made you my first officer five years ago, despite the fact that it was in violation of protocol. When I decided that you were at least as capable as Mr. Tuvok to lead this ship, should something happen to me."

"I see. I . . . I suppose that it makes you feel . . . more secure, at least, knowing that even if you don't remember the decision, you know it was yours." 

"Actually, you'd be surprised at how little comfort that brings me."

He tried to hide the smile, but it slid onto his face anyway. 

"Is something amusing?" 

"No, not at all. It . . . that just sounded so much like _you_, that's all."

To his surprise, her rigidity softened, and he saw the pain behind her blue eyes. He felt a prick of regret for his words as she said softly, "That's because it _was_ me."

She turned away from him for a moment, and he waited for her to continue, knowing that she wanted to say more. "I've been reading my log." Her eyes went back to his face, searching for something, though just what he didn't know. 

"It's strange, reading my own words, not recognizing them as mine. But I feel as though I've come to know you a little, come to know all the senior officers on this ship. I . . . I have a fine crew, don't I?"

The vulnerability in her eyes hurt him as much as her stiffness had before. "Yes, Captain," he said, forcing a small grin he didn't really feel. "You certainly do. And you've been a fine captain to them--to us--all." 

He waited, then asked what he had been wanting to ask for several minutes. "The crew does have a request, Captain. They would like for you to accept visitors, but they're not sure if you're up to it yet." 

A gentle smile formed the curves of her mouth. "Well, I don't know why not. The Doctor says that outside stimulation may help me to remember more quickly. Although there's still the chance that . . . I never will."

"You will." He said it with all the conviction he felt, and she looked up at him quickly. 

"I appreciate the confidence, Commander. I mean, Chakotay." 

He nodded his approval at the amendment, something she seemed to need at the moment. "I'll set a daily limit to visitors, or you'll have a hundred people here at all hours of the day." 

"Agreed." And somehow he felt as though she really did know him when she smiled.

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(to be continued . . . Feedback greatly appreciated! J )


	3. Forget-Them-Not, Part 3 of 4

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Forget-Them-Not

By Gracie Kay

Part Three of Four

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The next morning, Neelix bustled around his mess hall, searching for the absolutely perfect ingredients. The news had just arrived that the captain was accepting visitors, and he did not intend to stop by empty-handed. 

"Neelix." 

The voice behind him was feminine but ice-cool, and he didn't have to look up to know exactly who was addressing him. "Oh, hello, Seven. And how are you this fine day?"

"I am well, thank-you. I wish to speak with you."

Seven of Nine wished to speak with him? He turned toward her and saw that her face looked rather troubled. "Why, certainly. What shall we discuss?"

As usual, Seven did not mince words. "I wish to . . . 'visit' the captain," she said, and he was certain that she was using a word she had heard from another crewmember. "But I am uncertain how to proceed. She does not know me. She will doubtless be suspicious of me."

"Why would she be suspicious?"

She arched her eyebrows as though the question were absurd. "I am Borg." 

"Oh, I see. Well, according to Commander Chakotay, the captain has been studying the crew manifest for the last several days. She'll know who you are." 

"That may be the problem. Starfleet captains do not trust the Borg."

Suddenly Neelix understood. "Seven, I think I know what the problem is here."

"Explain." 

"You think that because Captain Janeway has forgotten some things--well, everything, where we're concerned--she is a different person. But she's not. She's still our captain, Seven. She's still Captain Janeway. If you earned her trust once before, don't you think you can do it again?"

Seven seemed to ponder that for a moment, then nodded. "I believe I understand." 

Neelix nodded and smiled. "Good!" Then he leaned toward her, wondering even as he did why he was telling Seven of Nine. "Actually, I'm a little nervous myself."

She arched her eyebrows again. "Why is that?"

"Well, she's never seen a Talaxian before." He chuckled, then grew serious. "But really, I am a little worried, you know. See, I keep telling myself that she'll be all right, and I know she will, but . . . what if she's not? What'll happen to us? I know that Commander Chakotay is a fine commander, but . . . we need _her_." Somehow he felt better just voicing his fear, even though he doubted Seven would have much comfort to give.

But the woman who was becoming more human and less machine with every passing month surprised him. "Over the time I have known Captain Janeway, I have observed several things about her. One of them is her strength. She will recover, and if she does not, she will adapt." 

Neelix huffed. "Well, I hope she doesn't have to 'adapt.' I hope she gets better, and I hope it's soon."

Seven surprised him again. "As do I." 

She went with him when Neelix went to see the captain. She seemed to be genuinely pleased with his company as they walked down the corridor to Captain Janeway's quarters, although trying to make small talk with Seven was like trying to make a Vulcan smile. Finally, Neelix gave up and the rest of the walk was silent. 

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After meeting people all day, Kathryn Janeway's head was in a whirl. It wasn't physically tiring, which showed that her body was nearly recovered from the injury; but it was certainly mentally tiring, trying to keep track of nearly a hundred faces and names. She most vividly remembered looking into the blue eyes of Admiral Paris's son, knowing that it was she who had given this boy--well, he was a man now--a second chance. He had made good use of that chance, although reading her log had revealed that he had made a few mistakes on his time aboard this ship. 

He had greeted her warmly; then they were both silent a moment, until she said, "I knew your father." The unconscious use of past tense struck her a moment later, startling and unnerving her. _What does that mean, "knew"? What are you thinking? _She couldn't answer the questions of her own mind, but Paris didn't seem to notice her word choice as he chuckled a little. 

"Yes, ma'am. I know."

She smiled, feeling heat on her cheeks. "Of course you do. I guess I feel as though you're all meeting me for the first time, when really I'm the one who's meeting you."

"Not a problem, Captain," he had said smoothly, with all the charm she knew he possessed--being a Paris. 

His had been one of the more relaxed meetings. Janeway's chief engineer had come to see her as well, but the woman had been rather nervous. Somehow she couldn't see this high-strung, half-Klingon woman and Tom Paris together, but she knew that they were. Strange. And then there was the ex-Borg, Seven of Nine. Janeway still couldn't get over the woman's un-Starfleet suit, her machine-like presence that seemed to spell resistance. Hard to believe that she had formed a bond with this automaton-turned-individual, but if her logs were to be believed, she had. And, just for the record, Janeway thought to herself, she was determined to do it again. But it wouldn't be easy. 

She sighed as she sat in her easy chair. It had been quite a day. Now the only one still present was the little, round alien called Neelix. She found that of all the members of the crew of the _Voyager_, it was easiest to talk to this native of the Delta Quadrant whose species she knew nothing about. It was he who had insisted she refer to him as "just Neelix, Captain," when she prefaced his name with "Mister." He was warm, friendly, buoyant. And very happy to see her. 

Now that she thought about it, they had all been glad to speak with her, each in his or her own way. Even Seven of Nine had expressed her best wishes: "I look forward to your recovery." Not the usual "Get well soon," but the expression was appreciated nonetheless. She considered this crew and found herself more than simply impressed with their efficiency. They had all greeted one another in their comings and goings, almost more like a family than a crew. And she was their captain, the one who kept their family together. It was overwhelming. 

Without warning, tears threatened, but she held them back. Then she saw that Neelix was studying her carefully. 

"Is something wrong, Captain?"

She shook her head that it was nothing, then wondered if she should tell this little man who still reminded her of a teddy bear. 

He seemed to read her mind. "Sometimes it helps to talk to someone, you know."

She did know, but . . . "I've never been much for confiding in people--except Tuvok."

"Not that you remember." The words were warm with affection. "You did name me your morale officer, right?"

She looked at him. "That's right, I did." 

"Well, it looks like you could use some morale boosting right now." He sat opposite her on the little couch. "I'm listening." 

"I . . ." Janeway wondered how to put it into words. "I'm just feeling mixed up, I guess. This is such a wonderful crew. I cherish the thought that they're _mine_ . . . but at the same time, I'm angry. I've suddenly been handed the crew of my dreams--but we're in the middle of the Delta Quadrant, away from all the people I know and love, away from the Federation. And the five years I've had to get to know them all . . . I can't remember a day." 

He reached out to pat her hand, and the gesture, though awkward, was strangely comforting. "That's a normal reaction. The important thing is that _you don't give up_. You'll remember us all eventually; I'm sure of it. And when you do, we'll mean more to you than we ever have before, and you'll be glad you never lost hope." 

She found herself staring at him. "Neelix . . . I was hurt on the holodeck, wasn't I?"

"Mm-hm." He said it carelessly. Good; he wasn't anticipating her idea. "An experimentation of Mr. Paris's, I guess. He convinced you that you needed a break and his new program would be a great diversion." 

"It's a . . . a dangerous program?" 

"Well, by my standards it certainly is. But it wouldn't be if he hadn't played with the safety protocols." He chuckled. "Don't worry, Captain. I'm sure he's already deleted it." 

The wheels in her mind were turning. "Oh, I'm not worried," she murmured absently. 

He misinterpreted thoughtfulness for weariness. "I'd better leave you alone for now," he hastened, giving her an amiable little squint. "You get some rest, Captain." 

She smiled at him gratefully. She had a lot to think over. "I will, I promise."

"Okay. I'll be back tomorrow." The door slid away for his exit, and Janeway watched him leave with a bitter taste in the back of her throat. 

She stared at the door as it whispered closed again, and she felt the mask on her face begin to crack. It was a mask that said she was fine, that she knew everything would be all right, that she was unconcerned and handling all of this commendably. As Janeway sat there and stared at the closed door that disconnected her from the world on this sleek and beautiful starship, the world of dear people who all cared so much for one another--and for her--her mask splintered in a hundred tiny pieces and smashed to the deck. She wasn't fine. Everything wasn't all right, and it may never be again. She was worried, and she was afraid. 

Before she knew it, she had started to cry. At first, the tears were two big drops that traced two paths of moisture down her face. Then more came, and more, until she hid her face in her hands and allowed herself to release all her emotions. The tears were not just for this courageous crew of people who were willing to accept her as their captain even when she was so vitally flawed; they were for the people she had not seen in five years, people her memories told her she had spoken with last month, last week . . . a few mere days ago. Her family, friends . . . Mark. 

She had found his letter completely by accident while accessing her logs and other personal documents. It was dated less than two years ago. He had waited for her, kept believing she was alive, and then, when hope became the delusion of an idealist, he had resolved to get on with life. Of course, he had. She would not expect anything more or less from him. The anger she was feeling right now wasn't fair to him. But unlike Tuvok, she couldn't eradicate feelings based on their illogical origins. They were still part of her, welling up in her soul with all the severity that this traumatic turn of events lent them. She wasn't just crushed by the loneliness; she was shattered by the shock. Everything piled upon her at once, circumstances and emotions that, before this injury, she'd experienced over five long, calming, bracing years, sufficient time in which to adapt. As she released the tears that five years had both produced and, knowing herself, denied her, Kathryn wondered if she was strong enough for this. 

Finally, she dried her eyes and forced herself to tackle this problem. _Put away the sentiment and focus on the solution_, she commanded herself. It wasn't Kathryn Janeway's style to sit around and wait for her dilemma to fix itself. Whatever had happened to change her in the last five years, that indomitable part of her would never vary, because she would not allow it to. She knew in that moment that she was strong enough for whatever was required, for one simple reason: she refused to be weak.

_Tuvok would say I'm not being logical._ The thought brought a small, bitter smile to her face. _Well, maybe I'm not. But I can't live like this forever. If I'm meant to remember, maybe my memories just need a little help. And if I'm not . . . then this crew is better off without me. _

She thought about getting some sleep and carrying out her scheme in the morning, but she knew there would be fewer people in the corridors at this time of night. Silently, Janeway left her quarters and followed a corridor to the holodecks. She hadn't been studying the specs of her ship for nothing; she not only knew her way there, but she knew which route was likely to be the least traveled. 

Sure enough, she met no one on her way, and soon she stood in front of the doors to the holodeck. She looked through the index of available programs and found the one she was looking for. "Paris Three, Do-U-Dare." That had to be it. She activated it, stepped inside, and looked around for a long moment. Then she spoke. "Computer, disengage safety protocols." 

"Warning: deactivating safety protocols presents extreme risk of injury." 

She nodded, more to herself than to the computer. "Override."

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(to be continued . . . Feedback greatly appreciated! Hey, should I trademark that line or something? ;-) 


	4. Forget-Them-Not, part 4 of 4 (a.k.a. The...

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Forget-Them-Not

By Gracie Kay

Part Four, a.k.a. The End

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Chakotay looked down at the panel between the two seats on the bridge. It was unsettling, taking the captain's chair when the one he considered the _real_ captain of _Voyager_ was still here on board. He had always tried to prepare himself for a day like this--but in his mind, it had never transpired in quite this way. In this strange, unforeseeable twist of events, Kathryn hadn't been killed. She hadn't even been seriously injured, requiring rehabilitation. Instead, she simply didn't know who he was. Who anyone was. 

It should have been a relief. 

He had glanced at the panel by way of habit, but now he gave it a closer look. This was the night shift. Why would the holodeck be running? Had someone left it active? "Bridge to Crewman Floyd," he said. 

"Floyd here, sir," came the crisp voice over the comm. 

"Would you check out the active holodeck for me? I have a feeling Ensign Paris left it running." 

He heard the smile in her voice. "On my way, sir." 

But her voice came back over the comm within a few minutes. "Floyd to Commander Chakotay."

"Chakotay here, what is it?" 

"Sir, I think you'd better come down here. The holodeck doors have been sealed, and it's asking for level eight clearance before I can open them."

_Kathryn!_ At her own request, he had given her all the security codes she had forgotten, even the codes that only he and Tuvok had knowledge of--the ones he couldn't use unless something not only happened to the captain, but killed her. Level nine. But she had used level eight to seal the doors, a code that he did know and was completely authorized, even in non-emergency situations, to use. What was she doing? 

_"You're not always a reasonable woman."_ His own voice flashed back to him from the past, and he was already on his feet as he said, "I'm on my way, Crewman. Stand by."

"Commander?" 

Chakotay looked up into the dark eyes of the operations officer on duty, and he was suddenly glad that he was sharing the night shift with another senior officer. "You have the bridge, Ensign Kim."

Kim brightened considerably. "Yes, sir!"

Then Chakotay was on his way to the holodeck. 

When he reached the doors, Crewman Floyd was waiting. "Sir? What's going on?"

"I don't know, but we're going to find out." He spoke to the computer. "Computer, open the doors." 

"Level eight security clearance required."

He gave the computer his code, and the doors opened. Chakotay stared at the huge simulation that was running. For a minute, he forgot to use Floyd's title. "Stay here, Jacqueline." 

"Should we freeze the program, sir?"

"No." The word was a snapping whip, and she stiffened reflexively. "If it is the captain in there"--as if it could possibly be anyone else, he thought wryly-- "I want to talk to her. I'd rather she didn't know I was coming to interrupt."

The look Floyd gave him was discerning, and he decided she knew exactly what he meant. "Understood, sir."

He nodded, then entered the simulation, and the doors closed behind him. 

He searched for her everywhere, carefully because he had the feeling that this was the infamous Tom Paris program with altered safeties. But he couldn't find her anywhere . . . and then, suddenly, he did. 

"Computer, freeze program!" 

Then he was running toward her fallen form, calling her name. When he reached her side, he fell to his knees and pulled her toward him, startled at the amount of blood on the side of her face. What had she done to herself? Was this the only way she thought she could deal with the pain of uncertainty . . . a suicide mission? 

"Kathryn." He realized there were tears in his eyes as he felt her neck for a pulse. It was there, but it was weak. "Kathryn, can you hear me?" 

He hit his comm badge blindly, eyes fixed on her still face. "Chakotay to sickbay." 

"The Doctor here. Is there a problem, Commander?" 

"Doctor, I'm beaming the captain directly to sickbay. I'll be there as soon as I can. Be ready."

For once, the EMH didn't ask twenty questions. "Understood."

Chakotay didn't bother to sign off as he eased her from his arms and stood to his feet. It wasn't easy, stepping back and leaving her lying on the deck. "Emergency medical transport; lock onto Captain Janeway's signal and transport now." She had never looked so small and fragile as she dematerialized in a shimmer of blue. Chakotay leaped to his feet.

When he reached the exit, Crewman Floyd was still there. 

"Sir?" 

"No time to explain, I'll be in sickbay."

"Yes, sir." 

He had already left her behind. 

~~~~~~~~~~

The sickbay doors almost didn't open for him quickly enough. As it was, he got through them rather sideways and hurried to the bio-bed where the Doctor was working. 

"Severe concussion, Commander," came the all-too-brisk voice of the hologram. "I'm repairing the damage now, as well as the laceration to the side of her face. Just how did this happen?"

At Chakotay's brief explanation, the Doctor scowled his disapproval. "Physically, she'll be good as new. But after this absurd stunt, I'm worried that her state of mind has been unstable since her _first_ holodeck injury. I have no idea how this new one will affect her." 

After several more intense minutes, the Doctor sighed and stepped back. "Well, that's that. Physical injury has been healed, but we won't know about the mental injury until we awaken her." 

Chakotay frowned. "Can . . . can you awaken her _now_? Safely?"

The Doctor sighed, irritated as usual when someone asked him what he deemed an absurd question. "Certainly, Commander. One moment, please." He returned with a hypo-spray and pressed it to the captain's neck. Chakotay felt his body stiffen as he waited. 

He didn't have to wait long. Within a few seconds, her eyes opened. She looked confused for a moment; then her eyes met his, and somehow he knew that something was different. 

"Chakotay." There was no uncertainty in the voice; there were no painful questions in her eyes. Did he dare hope . . . 

"What happened to me?" She was already trying to sit up, but the Doctor restrained her gently. 

"Careful, Captain, I believe you should rest a few moments. If I may ask, just what were you thinking?"

She frowned at him, clearly confused. "What's this about? Doctor, what happened?" 

Chakotay chose his words carefully. "Captain . . . do you know me?"

"Of course I do, Chakotay. Would you care to explain what's going on?"

Suddenly, something seemed to connect in the Doctor's holographic brain. "Ah-ha, we may have our answer," he said triumphantly. "Captain, what's the last thing you remember?" 

She paused to think about it. "Well, I was on the holodeck . . . on that new program of Tom's . . . He called for me to look out, but that's all I can remember."

"And you don't remember waking up in sickbay not knowing anyone? Not remembering _Voyager_ or anyone on board?"

Her face was answer enough. "Not at all." 

The Doctor cleared his throat. "All right. What ship is this, Captain?"

"What?"

"Just answer the questions, please."

"U.S.S. _Voyager_, Starfleet registration number 74656." 

"Good. And you are--"

She sighed, starting to catch on. "Captain Kathryn Janeway." 

"Very good. Your first officer is--"

"Chakotay. My chief engineer is B'Elanna Torres, my operations officer is Harry Kim, my security chief is Tuvok--would you like to hear his Starfleet service number as well?"

The Doctor smiled. "That's quite all right. Well, then, I hereby present you with a clean bill of health--although I expect you to rest for the next few days, of course." He glowered at her with that superior, CMO-making-ready-to-lecture-the-captain-on-taking-care-of-herself glare, but then, remarkably, his expression softened. "Welcome back, Captain." 

She frowned back, still bewildered, then turned to Chakotay. "I hope you know I expect a complete explanation, Commander." 

He smiled at her playful use of his rank, at the mock seriousness of her voice. Kathryn was back. "I look forward to it." 

~~~~~~~~

Janeway got her explanation over two cups of coffee in the ready room the next morning. Chakotay told her the entire story in the most objective language, but she knew he wanted to say more. 

And finally, she asked him. "Chakotay . . . you've told me the facts, but I think there's more to this than just medical data. What's on your mind?"

He seemed relieved that she was asking, but he still hesitated. "It was difficult for the entire crew, I suppose. I think a lot of them had started to take you for granted." He sighed, then, and opened up fully. "It wasn't easy for me, either. I hadn't realized how _I_ take you for granted, and . . ." 

She didn't fill his silence. Chakotay was a man of few words, and when he began to speak his mind, the one privileged enough to hear it had best just listen. But now he was struggling with what to say, how to say it. 

"I worried about you. You had to deal with so much, so fast, and you were so different, that I was afraid what the whole ordeal would do to you. Emotionally. Of course, if it had been hard on you, you wouldn't have told me—you didn't know me or even trust me, really. I just . . . I worried about you.

"You're not just my captain. You're my friend. And I guess . . ." Then he smiled as though finding an inner resolution. "I guess in a roundabout way, I'm just telling you . . . I missed you." 

Before she could answer, he was speaking again. "I brought you--this." From inside his Starfleet jacket, he brought out a small blue flower. Janeway smiled with recognition. 

"A forget-me-not. Chakotay." She took it and fingered the petals gently. "It's lovely." She smiled to herself first, then at him. "It's good to be back." 

"Kathryn . . . it's good to _have_ you back." 

Janeway felt a tear in her eye, but she blinked quickly. Carefully, she brought the flower close to her face and inhaled its sweet scent. 

~~~~~~~~~~~

(Th-th-that's all, folks! Well? . . . Feedback greatly . . . aw, forget it. You already know.)

(It's that box right down below that says "Be a responsible reader and…" But I'm not gonna say it, 'cause you already know.)

(It's the whole reason we post fanfic, just so we can get a … Oh, never mind. You already know.)

~~~~~~~~~~


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